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Photo by sampsyo

The rules when it comes to photography are complex enough to intimidate me away from the art.

WHICH IS STUPID, OF COURSE. But seriously – release forms, copyright laws, people up close versus people far away, children, pets, private places, public places…and most countries have varying and surprising rules. (Example: Some architectural features have copyrights in France, even in public spaces. You can’t publish a photo of the Louvre’s glass pyramid without permission.)

And then you run into the language barrier – how do you ask someone’s permission to take a photo when you don’t speak French? (Or Italian, or Japanese, etc?)

Unsurprisingly, there’s an app for all that.

Pietro Zuco’s app Photographers Rights puts most of the information you need on your iPhone. First, the actual laws for the following countries/destinations:

• USA
• Australia
• Canada
• UK
• Japan
• Spain
• Italy
• France

Each destination is split into several subcategories, including rules for public and private places, for people, for publication, for celebrities (who are apparently not people in some countries, as they have their own rules), and even rules for appropriate conduct.

The app also provides copyright info, including help with Creative Commons licenses and reproduction/distribution rights.

All of this would be helpful enough for a free app, but Photographers Rights goes further. There’s a Contracts section that includes various types of release forms (adult, minor, property, location) in English, Spanish, Italian, and French, all of which you can email as a PDF for easy printing. And to help you communicate what you’re after, the Questions section has eight questions like “May I take a picture here?” and “May I use a flash?” with audio recordings in French, Japanese, Spanish, Catalan, and Italian.

Photographers Rights is relatively new – more languages and helpful information is coming with future versions. But if you’re a photographer and you’ve got an iPhone, there’s no reason not to download this freebie and learn your rights.

Jessica Young, 23, is an island of animation in a sea of stiff blazers at Boulevard3 in Los Angeles. Photo by Tracy Tran. Featured image by Kim C. Martin.

Standoffish scene at L.A. club lacks skanks.

THIS IS HOLLYWOOD. Where are the Gucci skanks?

I peer in every direction from my spot on the dance floor at the Boulevard3 nightclub on the Sunset Boulevard, through colliding beer bottles and the purple and pink light show. I scan the flashy ektachrome movie on the wall for a slutty silhouette.

Nothing.

Three giant, pulsating rooms are packed, but the leggy, bling-y members of Hollywood’s most populous girl-tribe are nowhere to be found. I have entered a new age in Los Angeles club culture, the Dork Age.

Gucci Skank, n., A tan Los Angeles female who combines tacky Gucci clothing with hard alcohol and sudden fits of promiscuity. At clubs she garners interest by behaving spastically, grinding on your boyfriend then blacking out.

Boulevard3 and other clubs of the Dork Age have their benefits. They are a great place to talk about work. Statistically speaking, they are a great place to troll for a tepid, long-term mate with a steady income. In the end, though, Dork Age formality stamps out the mad desirous L.A. we want to believe in — the L.A. Gucci skanks conjure from thin air.

Colored lights liven the atmosphere at Boulevard3 in Los Angeles. Photo by Tracy Tran

At Boulevard3, guys outnumber girls three to one. They are an ethnically diverse crew of masters candidates with outdated blazers and bright futures: engineers and students of corporate law. They are perfectly nice, dreary people who operate with little apparent sleaze or malice.

They would make any girl happy, any girl with a checklist that does not include insane passion. Given the frumpy vintage dresses gyrating around me, this crowd is full of perfect couples waiting to happen.

Like their savage, dive bar cousins, Dork Age males are pack animals. This eager-beaver breed is marked by textbook brilliance, it seems, at the expense of daring.

They engage Jessica and I in wing-man pairs for twenty minutes at a time.

Chad, 22, Chinese, is the guy who developed the thing that will save the power grid if a Tsunami hits New York City.

Awesome, Chad, we think.

The quiet one says nothing.

The quiet one is so nice, we think.

Twenty minutes pass and we are all nodding at each other.

It felt like a multicultural job fair with a Top-40 soundtrack. People were fascinated and curious about what we did for a living but too stand-offish to ask for a phone number or make-out.

Justin Witt, 24, interacts with a woman at a comfortable distance at Boulevard3 in Los Angeles. Photo by Tracy Tran

This is a club without Gucci skanks. It’s a lustless room. No one believes the songs are played for them. Everybody’s hook-up-o-meter strays off. We start a game of cool wherein sophistication loses its allure and becomes a barrier — a barrier that even Bhangra, the world’s most inviting rite of spring, could not penetrate.

When a posse of Punjabi lawyers encircles the dance floor, signaling the rest of us to end the night with a Bollywood style dance-off, the once chipper crowd becomes really absorbed in their phones.

Total Bummer.

Despite gobs of insightful career advice, the Dork Age is a bummer in the most southern California sense of the word, because we were all well-meaning, good-looking people teetering on the edge of a good time, dying for a little push. Because a neon green Tokyo tea at Boulevard3 brings-on a sweet, hormonal drunk that makes a phone number fall like a feather from uptight, under-glossed lips.

photo by Michael Mistretta

Travel bloggers band together with Passports with Purpose and Room to Read to make a big difference in Zambia (and win some sweet prizes!).

GIVING TO A WORTHY CAUSE feels great, especially when it puts you in the running for a huge list of awesome prizes! Passports with Purpose has a 4-year history of fundraising success, and this year they have set their sights high — to raise $80,000 in two weeks. This pile of cash will build two libraries for the children of Zambia with the aid of Room to Read.

SUPPORT PwP
*Share PwP links to your Facebook.
*Use the #PwP tag and give plenty of Twitter love.
*Use a PwP icon as your profile picture during fundraising.
*Post a PwP widget on your blog.

Does it get any worthier than that?

Passports with Purpose 2011 fundraising kicked off yesterday and has already raised $10,000, a damn good start! For the last 2 years running PwP has well exceeded their fundraising goals, and with your support they will do it again.

HOW IT ALL WORKS
* Individual bloggers procure a prize that will be given away to one lucky donor.
* The Passports with Purpose website hosts a list of all the available prizes.
* Donors make a tax deductible donation. For each $10 they donate, they can be entered to win a prize of their choice. The donation period runs through Dec. 16th.
* After the fundraiser ends, a winner is randomly selected for each prize.

Now is the time to jump on the PwP website and start making donations towards your favorite prize. This year’s prize list is a tempting trove of loot including rail passes, hotel accommodation, tours, gift cards, clothing, and electronics.

Run, don’t walk, and donate to PwP right this second.

Ian Mackenzie, in the above video, captures the essence of the Occupy movement. What is this about? Each other.

DO YOU FEEL that? It’s called connection. Look into a friend’s/lover’s/mother’s/father’s/stranger’s eyes. What do you see? What do you feel? Connect. Understand that we’re all the same. Understand that we’re all part of the whole. We’ve been led to believe that the individualistic life is ideal, that to be successful means others will have to be unsuccessful. It’s not a competition. We’re all in this together.

Love is what emerges when we give each other our face ~ Michael Stone

Take a look around you. Go for a walk in the woods/along a lake/up a mountain/down the street. Pay attention. Listen to the birds. Watch the trees sway in the wind. Feel the texture of a building. Lift your head up and make eye contact with your fellow human beings. Smile. Say hi. Connect.

The winning shot

Big congratulations to Laura Cook!

FOR THE MONTH of November, The Guardian’s theme for their monthly contest was Solitude. Amongst the 19 shortlisted photographers, MatadorU student, Laura Cook, was singled out for her gorgeous shot of an adult literacy student in Kamakwie, Sierra Leone. She won herself a £200 voucher and the chance to win “the grand prize of a photographic safari to South Africa.”

About the photo, judge Tom Humpage, had this to say:

The photographer has created solitude using light which is unusual among this shortlist. I like the way she is staring into the camera so you know it’s a genuine facial expression rather than a fleeting tick the camera has captured. The young girl is singled out, which makes you think about what destiny has in store. Great composition – a shot to be proud of.

On Laura Cook’s photography website, she explains the context of the winning shot:

I was not given long to take this photograph but was drawn not only to the woman by the beautiful 6pm light that flooded her face but by the way she found peace in a crowd. Not always an easy thing to do.

In the MatadorU photography (and writing) programs, students are encouraged to submit work to weekly labs in which it is critiqued by faculty members. This photograph was submitted in one of the weekly labs where Laura received feedback. Learn more about MatadorU here.

*Special note: MatadorU students Genevienve Hathaway and Stephen Chapman also made the shortlist. They are photos #4 and #5 in this slideshow, respectively. Congrats to you too!

Will Boase gives a ground-level view of Poland’s patinated pearl, Krakow.

Krakow was an accidental holiday for me. I tell people I was there to shoot a film festival, but really I went there because my girlfriend is from there, and I ended up staying long after the film festival had ended just to explore this incredible city. I will warn you: check the temperature before you go. It’s quite often -20ºC in winter, and by contrast, can get up to 35ºC or 40ºC in the height of summer.

Kazimierz is a good place to start. The beers are cheap, the nightlife lively, and there’s always a good snack available until late. Try some hot beer. On a cold night it’s surprisingly appealing, the herbs and spices making it the lager drinker’s equivalent to mulled wine. It’s served well in Alchemia, a bar on the corner of Plac Nowy in Kazimierz where the smoking area is hidden behind the false doors of a wardrobe.

If you’re in search of a little more of the city’s recent history, hop the number 22 tram and head for Nowa Huta, the district built under Stalin to house the workers who came from all over the country to work in the Soviet steelworks. Apart from wandering the socialist-realist architecture of this strangely beautiful artificial town, head to Aleja Róż, the wide avenue at the heart of the suburb which takes its name from the now-departed rosebushes. There you should visit Stylowa, the café where musicians used to meet up and discuss Big Beat, the name they invented to stop Communist authorities from realizing they were all talking about rock ‘n’ roll, which was banned. Go one step further and ask for some orangeade, the rockers’ tipple of choice.

No trip to Krakow would be complete without three things: pierogi, smalec, and vodka. Pierogi is traditional Polish cuisine, little dumplings full of cabbage, white cheese, or pork. It’s cheap and filling, and delicious too. When eating pierogi, try the smalec. Forget that it’s just pig grease and focus on the deliciousness. Then order shots of wiśniówka (cherry vodka) and you can pretty much apply for your Polish passport.

If you’re not too bleary-eyed and short of breath from all of the great food and cheap beer, try a walk up to Kopiec Kościuszki, the man-made hill built in the 19th century as a present to commemorate a leader who fought in Poland and the United States. It’s a great view over the whole city and offers a good excuse to head for the nearest bar when you get back down.

For accommodation you should be looking at around $15 per night for a budget bed. Eating out in a mid-range restaurant will set you back about the same with wine. Most importantly, by no account should you miss out on visiting Piękny Pies as the hour gets late: it’s a club that single-handedly manages to explain why Poland should be at the top of every young backpacker’s budget list.

Cracovia Stadium A foggy night outside the Cracovia stadium. Cracovia and their bitter rivals Wisla (pronounced Vee-swah) are separated only by a park, and have a history of extreme violence between hooligans on both sides. If you're going to a match, correct scarf selection is essential. Market Square Dawn over Rynek Glowny (Market Square) and the twin steeples of St. Mary's Basilica. The towering church has a story which stretches back to the 13th century (no surprise: the same is true of most of the city). Legend has it that two brothers were competing to see who could build the highest steeple, and the losing brother killed the winner out of jealousy. Every single hour of every day, on the hour, a trumpeter appears at a high window in the taller tower and plays the Heynal, a tune which ends very abruptly, allegedly to remember one of his predecessors who was shot in the throat with an arrow whilst playing the same tune in the 13th century to warn of approaching Tartar invaders. Dogwalking Early morning dogwalkers in Blonia Park, the meadow separating the Wisla and Cracovia football stadiums. Pope John Paul II (and more recently Pope Benedict XVI) celebrated mass there on a number of occasions, and many concerts, events and festivals are also held on the sprawling grass area. My personal favorite, though, are the rollerbladers, who love the smooth pathways along the edges of the park. Cloth Hall The interior of the famous Cloth Hall (Sukiennice in Polish) in Market Square. Recognised by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site in 1978, the Cloth Hall was an important venue for international trade for centuries, and because of Krakow's position on the Amber Road it became (and remains) one of the largest amber markets in the world. For the less wealthy there are plenty of cheaper souvenirs on offer here, but nothing says 'glamour' like a large lump of what looks like earwax. Upstairs, away from the crowds, there's a brilliant museum of art, worth visiting solely for the massive painting of horses ("Czworka"), though there are plenty of other stunning works on show. Ducks to Water People feeding the ducks on the banks of the River Wisla in the shadow of Grunwaldzki Bridge in midwinter. On crisp, sunny days like this the riverside walkways are crowded with families walking in the slushy snow. A pleasant walk from Wawel Castle to the St. Stanislaus church at Skalka is recommended, being short enough that you won't freeze, but long enough to work up a thirst before hitting Kazimierz. Kazmierz Pigeons fly over the roofs in Plac Nowy, the centre of Kazimierz, the old Jewish district of Krakow. Kazimierz is a popular place for budget drinking, with students flooding the many trendy bars and cafes around the square before stumbling over to the zapiekanka sellers (take a loaf of French bread, cover it in toppings, cover that with cheese and consume messily) for a snack for the road or just as an interlude during the drinking. The Maluch A man walks past the most Polish object in the world, the Maluch. Boasting an engine of around 500cc and all the capacity and comfort of a shopping cart, the Polski Fiat 126p is a symbol of Poland, its nickname meaning "small". You still see a lot of people driving them everywhere, and there are many modifications including the stretch Maluch and even the non-convertible, which is a Maluch with its roof cut off. St. Adalbert The Church of St. Adalbert in Market Square. With foundations dating back to the 11th century, this little church is one of the oldest buildings in the entire city, and likely the oldest church. The barrel vaulting of the roof contains beautiful stonework, and if you're passing by it's definitely worth a look inside this little landmark of the city. Zurek Soup This sour rye soup is traditionally eaten at Easter and contains ham, bacon, white pork sausages and potatoes, and is heavily spiced with marjoram. It's very tasty, especially if you like pork. Marking Territory Graffiti on a wall in the Wola Justowska neighbourhood in support of the Wisla football team. Walls across the entire city are covered in football teams' names, and it's often possible to tell when you're leaving a district because the names on the walls change. War, or Brutal? Aftershaves with evocative names on sale in a kiosk in Nowa Huta, a Krakow suburb. Break Time A worker at the Nowa Huta steelworks takes a break. The steelworks, built under Stalin and now owned by AcelorMittal, were built in the 1950s and the suburb of Nowa Huta was created to house the workers and their families. It's an area with a fascinating history and well worth a visit. It has a bad reputation stemming from a few bad-newsworthy in 'new' Nowa Huta, but it's largely undeserved. Just stick to the old town at night and you'll be fine. Ticket, please. A guard on a train from Krakow to Warsaw checks tickets. The trains are punctual and pleasant (you get old-style compartments with six seats and a sliding door opening onto a corridor) but it can be very confusing trying to catch the right train if you don't speak any Polish. Fish Market Carp in a supermarket shortly after Christmas. These are the lucky ones: Poles eat carp as the traditional Christmas meal but it has to be very fresh, so before the advent of supermarkets with large pools, people would instead buy the carp whenever it was available then keep it alive in the bathtub until the right time. After the carp has been killed and eaten, some of its scales will be kept and put in people's wallets for good luck. Klepsydra Death notices, called klepsydra, outside a church in central Krakow. When a person dies, an announcement is printed and put on the parish noticeboard to inform friends and relations of the date of the mourning and funeral, making the world's most depressing community board. Katyn Memorial The memorial for the Katyn massacre victims, below Wawel Castle in Krakow, which commemorates the 22,000 people who were executed by the Soviets over two months in the spring of 1940. Those who were killed were chosen because they were educated senior members of society or because they held high rank in the army. The massacre is still a sensitive issue between Russia and Poland, especially after the events of April 2010, when Poland's then-president Lech Kaczyski and many other high-ranking officials were killed in a plane crash en-route to the 70th annual Katyn memorial service. Mind the Gap An extremely efficient message on Krakow's public transport which notifies passengers that as well as prohibiting the usual things such as eating and smoking, the public are also not allowed to rollerblade, toot trumpets or eat ice-cream. At least that's what it looks like. Bar Hopping Clubbers buying shots (bania) at the bar in the new Piekny Pies club on Slawkowska Street, one of Krakow's best-known and most fun clubs. The name means "beautiful dog", and the place is eclectic to say the least, with a quieter bar upstairs and a raving nightclub downstairs. Though I never experienced the old venue its name lives on in legend, though it was forced to close down after the local school for the deaf complained about the noise. 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The past isn’t just another planet. It’s a whole different universe.

WATCHING THE CROWNING of ‘Emperor’ Jean-Bédel Bokassa (thanks Glenna Gordon for finding it) really brings home the truth of the saying that you don’t know how far you’ve come until you turn around and take a look back.

Africa gets short shrift as a travel destination. A spot poll of feedback as to why people don’t visit Africa shows both a mix of the usual grumbles about airline routes and cost, but also the thought that Africa, since decolonisation, is not safe.

It is true that some places are still pretty unsafe, and the Central African Republic has decades to walk yet before it will pull itself out of the complete mess that the Emperor and possibly occasional cannibal plunged it into. It’s also true that the era of the big men and their mind-bogglingly nasty deeds is receding, like some awful historical wave finally drawing back down the shore.

Why yes, I believe that kitsch eagle throne is entirely gold. And paid for by France as I recall. Who also made the diamond crown. And eventually deposed him. No, I can't imagine why either. Screengrab from Scarlett Lion

Uganda today is familiar to many as much for its epic white water rafting as for Amin’s legacy. Ethiopia for coffee and some of the oldest christian sites in the world, rather than the horrors of Mengistu.

I’ll be the first to concede that there is still a long way to go, and it’s easy to be a cynic sometimes. But looking back to see a spoiled little prince have his gloves put on his hands for him, and four more minutes of regal bullshit in one of the poorest countries on the continent, it’s hard not to smile a little at how far we have come. That giant gold eagle throne weighed two tons and was made of gold. The coronation cost $20 million, which was a third of the country’s aid budget and France’s entire aid budget for the year.

Whatever is wrong today, the continent has walked a long and, on the whole, positive path since the days of the CAR’s terrible emperor.

Matador began here, February 2006. High on Vulcan Misty, an 18,000 ft volcano near Arequipa, Peru, Co-Founders Ross Borden and Ben Polansky discussed the need for a global community of travelers where people could share stories like the one that was unfolding there, a way to connect with locals and travelers over whatever they were passionate about. Photo courtesy of Ross Borden.

Over five years in the making, Matador’s all new community site gives unprecedented tools and resources for travelers, writers, photographers, and filmmakers.

THOSE OF US who’ve been part of Matador from the beginning will remember what it was like. Back in 2006 when the original “Matador Travel” was launched, there was no community like ours. It was our little corner online, a kind of “virtual campfire” as co-founder Ben Polansky liked to call it, our place to come back and tell our stories and listen to others’.

As we evolved into a media company, first launching Matador Network and then our education community MatadorU, we’ve always maintained a vision for one day integrating everything together into a single platform. That day has finally arrived. The new Matador community is here! Major features include:

• all of the original Matador Travel community member profiles, blogs, and photos
• full integration with Matador Network channels, topics, and destinations
• ability to search and find travelers based on interests or by destination
• clean and easy to navigate user interface
• beautiful front end look for users’ travel blogs, photo galleries, and activity

There are dozens more minor features as well. Here’s a quick walk through:

The new community was co-designed by Matador CTO Stefan Klopp and Matador Network Architect Ian MacKenzie. When I asked them to describe the community in their own words, they said:

Our goal with the newest version of the Matador Community was to provide a place for travelers to showcase their best work, and to interact with other like-minded travelers. The members’ blog pages are designed to look like magazine articles to encourage the user to write quality content. In addition, we limited galleries to 15 photos so that users are forced to be selective with their work.

We tried to make the new site as easy as possible to navigate, and interact with other travelers, writers, photographers, and Matador editors. We give the community the power to promote the best content through the “Stoke” button, which has also been integrated into the network.

We have only scratched the surface with this re-launch of the community. In the future we will see further integration with the network and MatadorU, increased usability, and more ways for users to promote their content.

From our new tagline: What is travel culture?

We wanted to take this launch as an opportunity to announce Matador’s new tagline: Travel culture worldwide. Over the last decade, the ability to travel quickly almost anywhere, to organize our travels, and to share perceptions and expressions through the internet, has given way to an unprecedented travel culture. We have entered an age where not only being “world travelers,” but feeling very much at home in the culture and native language of multiple countries, has become the everyday reality of thousands of people around the world. We collectively form a nation of permanent travelers.

Travel culture has no borders. It has no official language. It has no age restrictions. You can’t buy it or sell it. But you experience it everywhere you go. It’s there when the bus drops you off on a roadside in Mexico. It’s there when you’re writing in your journal. It’s exchanged when you sleep on other travelers’ couches, or they sleep on yours. It’s there when someone begins teaching you their language.

Matador has always been about sharing travel culture worldwide. We hope you’ll join our community and add to the conversation.

THE ZAMBEZI AND WHITE NILE are routinely cited as two of the best big water stretches of whitewater in the world. The potent combination of high volume, warm water and huge waves put both of these rivers at the top of many paddlers ‘must visit’ list. In the following photos Henry Munter gives a first person view of the rivers and their lasting allure. Victoria Falls Ben Beddingham paddling at the base of Victoria Falls, Zambezi River. All photos by Henry Munter Number 9 Mikey Amos grew up on the Zambezi, but number 9, "Commercial Suicide" gets him going every time. Number 8 Rapid number 8 is classic Zambezi. Kelly Rinck shows the technique: take a deep breath and hold on. Number 5 This is me... about to get eaten in Number 5. Number 4 Zambezi Rapids have names, but are more commonly referred to by number. This one, Number 4, offers an airy surf for those who can handle what's behind it. Zambezi Narrows The Zambezi Narrows go on for kilometers, mostly calm as here, hemmed in by rock walls. One can only imagine how deep the river might be in places like this. Day 3 Day 3 on the Zambezi Multi Day, Water By Nature Lead Guide Masauso Tembo explains the line through Chimumba Falls. Nshima At the end of a long hike out of the canyon, Pete Harvey, the porter crew, and I share a pot of Nshima. Number 10 take out Most people who have done a day trip on the Zambezi will remember these. At the number 10 take out there is about 500 feet worth. Rafting the Nile The Nile's warm water and friendly pool-drop rapids make it an ideal place to push the limits of rafting. "The Bad Place" Called "The Bad Place", this part of Itanda Rapid swallows rafts. Luckily for its guests, Nile River Explorers offers the option to go around. evening thunderstorm on lake victoria An evening thunderstorm builds towering clouds above Lake Victoria. Boda Boda The Boda Boda is the de facto taxi of Uganda, with experienced riders going two and even three passengers. They'll carry anything, from kayaks to charcoal to coffins. Bujagali Dam Sadly, the Bujagali Dam, pictured here, has just finished inundating a one day stretch of the Nile that used to equal the lower section below the dam. Although local conservationists and tourist operators put up resistance to the project, electricity in Central Africa is in extremely high demand. Monitor Lizard Although most people associate African rivers with giant crocodiles, the monitor lizard is the biggest reptile you'll see on the rafting stretch of the Nile. I snuck up on this lizard after watching it swam Itanda rapid, the biggest on the section, rarely run in its entirety. It was the most impressive whitewater move I've ever seen by an animal. Nile Special Kelly Rinck surfs the Nile Special, a wave famous for its speed and air time. /* jQuery(".matador-gallery").hide(); jQuery(".matador-gallery div").hide(); /* jQuery(".matador-gallery div:first").show(); */ /* jQuery(".matador-gallery div:first").addClass("gallery-selected");*/ /*matador_build_gallery_nav();*/ function matador_build_gallery() { var html = ''+ ''+ ''+ '
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The original Occupy Wall St poster

Ian Mackenzie thinks it’s time to move to the next level.

[Editor's note: The following post was published in its original form here.]

WHEN I FIRST heard the call to Occupy Wall Street, I knew it was big. I knew it would be more than just a “protest.” This felt different than the usual march to voice specific grievances. It was a call for something more profound — much deeper — than even the original participants realized as they gathered their signs and tents.

I knew because I’d been following the various manifestations of this movement for over a year, working with Velcrow Ripper as he traversed the globe working on his new film, Evolve Love. The premise is complex to capture, but simple to state: humanity is waking up.

On Sept 17, 2011, 2000 people showed up at Zucotti Park. On Nov 26, 2011, they are still there.

The mainstream media, if they aren’t busy denigrating the movement and highlighting its flaws, are still grappling with how to cover it. Who are the leaders? What are the demands? No answer has been given. Instead, they Occupy.

Early on, journalist Naomi Klein recognized the significance as well. She called it “The Most Important Thing In The World Now“:

Yesterday, one of the speakers at the labor rally said: “We found each other.” That sentiment captures the beauty of what is being created here. A wide-open space (as well as an idea so big it can’t be contained by any space) for all the people who want a better world to find each other. We are so grateful.

“Why are they protesting?” ask the baffled pundits on TV. Meanwhile, the rest of the world asks: “What took you so long?” “We’ve been wondering when you were going to show up.” And most of all: “Welcome.”

At its heart, Occupy is not a protest. It’s about creating space. It’s about modeling a new way of being, that requires a fair amount of “unlearning” the way society and human nature has been taught. It’s asking the question: why? Why are things they way they are? Is it, in fact, human nature to be greedy, violent, and cruel? Or is it possible that these are symptoms of a systemic order?

Occupy Wall St is also about rejecting a system that has, at its core, drifted violently out of balance. It has become life destroying – and no amount of material wealth will stave off the underlying sadness of that realization. Author Charles Eisenstein wrote a brilliant op-ed titled “No Demand Is Big Enough” that captured this sentiment:

We protest not only at our exclusion from the American Dream; we protest at its bleakness. If it cannot include everyone on earth, every ecosystem and bioregion, every people and culture in its richness; if the wealth of one must be the debt of another; if it entails sweatshops and underclasses and fracking and all the rest of the ugliness our system has created, then we want none of it.

No one deserves to live in a world built upon the degradation of human beings, forests, waters, and the rest of our living planet. Speaking to our brethren on Wall Street, no one deserves to spend their lives playing with numbers while the world burns. Ultimately, we are protesting not only on behalf of the 99% left behind, but on behalf of the 1% as well. We have no enemies. We want everyone to wake up to the beauty of what we can create.

On Oct 15, almost one month after Occupy Wall St. began, global chapters erupted around the world in solidarity.

From London to San Francisco to my hometown, Vancouver, thousands took the streets in support. It was a beautiful celebration of a community desiring to create change. And when the day was over, many people packed up their signs, and did what you do after a typical march. You go home and continue with your life.

Except for a core group that stayed to, you know, occupy. And that’s when the trouble started.

Turns out that tenting in a public space, on public land, becomes a problem for the authorities. They’d rather you shuffle on and keep moving. While I was less surprised by the response of the city staff, I was disheartened by fellow progressives that were quick to dismiss Occupy Vancouver for its lack of cohesion and characterization as nothing more than “drugged out hippies.” They joined the ranks of the opposed and demanded the occupation shut down.

Yet not many recognized the true value of holding space. The Art Gallery had become a modern day ‘agora’ – a place where citizens were able to gather, discuss, and debate the challenges of our day. Everyone was fed, sheltered, and respected. And when you commit to include all others, you also invite in the shadow. The encampment becomes a microcosm of the larger shadow of the city.

As the Occupy movement refused to dissolve, they began exposing the systems of power that have long operated in the darkness. In Oakland, riot police tear gassed the crowds and severely injured Iraq war vet Scott Olsen. All Occupations faced ongoing and direct intervention by police. All the while, the media and onlookers continued to ask: what are your demands?

Most humans desire to resolve dilemmas as quickly as possible. We are uncomfortable with uncertainty. And yet it is the uncertainty that gives the Occupy movement its unique resilience.

I found the following passage by author Michael Mead, in his book “The World Behind the World”:

“Choose one side of a dilemma and the other side resurfaces with a vengeance. For picking one side or being “one-sided” about a true dilemma only delays and even intensifies the issue. Choose one side and the conflict will return at a deeper level at some future time. That’s the nature of the genuine dilemmas of life in this left and right, dark and light, abundant and empty world. Only when the tension of opposing forces can be held long enough does a genuine solution appear that can dissolve the tension and renew the flow of life at another level.”

It took almost 55 days before Rolling Stone contributor Matt Taibbi became the first mainstream publication to finally get it. He confessed to having totally mischaracterized the movement in its infancy. In How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the OWS Protests he wrote:

Occupy Wall Street was always about something much bigger than a movement against big banks and modern finance. It’s about providing a forum for people to show how tired they are not just of Wall Street, but everything. This is a visceral, impassioned, deep-seated rejection of the entire direction of our society, a refusal to take even one more step forward into the shallow commercial abyss of phoniness, short-term calculation, withered idealism and intellectual bankruptcy that American mass society has become.

If there is such a thing as going on strike from one’s own culture, this is it. And by being so broad in scope and so elemental in its motivation, it’s flown over the heads of many on both the right and the left.

You don’t have to dig deep to realize the global banking system is out of control (watch the divisive but very entertaining ‘The American Dream‘ to give you an idea). A system built on debt begets a Machine that demands infinite growth on a finite planet. What is the answer? Perspectives like those shared by Zeitgeist and Thrive blame a shadowy elite pulling the strings at the top.

Yet again, looking deeper, we realize the elite are simply better at playing the game. To demonize them as the 1% is to enforce the old habits of Separation. As Charles Eisenstein puts it in his book Sacred Economics: “We are all puppets, but there is no puppet master.”

Certainly, we can condemn the decisions and structures that wreak untold havoc on our communities and the natural world. And we must also recognize how we are complicit in perpetuating this very same system, those parts of ourselves that are both the 99% and the 1%.

The Occupy movement has the opportunity to offer a third perspective.

This week, many of the global occupations have been attacked, bullied, harassed, and in some cases destroyed. Some mainstream outlets are tentatively claiming that Occupy Wall St. is finished. And yet, to believe the Occupy Movement is just a few tents in a park is missing the point entirely.

Don Hazen writes in To Change the Country, We Just Might Have to Change Ourselves:

As Eve Ensler, global activist and author of The Vagina Monologues says, “What is happening cannot be defined. It is happening. It is a spontaneous uprising that has been building for years in our collective unconscious. It is a gorgeous, mischievous moment that has arrived and is spreading. It is a speaking out, coming out, dancing out. It is an experiment and a disruption.”

Of course, nothing concrete has changed, yet. But the possibility of change — really, the necessity of change — is now in the middle of our nation’s politics and public discourse. This alone is an incredible achievement because a few short months ago, many millions of us essentially had no hope.

I believe it is now time for the Occupy Movement to come out of beta. We have realized that we suffer from a severe lack of imagination, and are crying out for a potent new vision of the future. I believe I have experienced a taste of this new vision, what Charles Eisenstein calls “the more beautiful world our hearts tell us is possible.” And it is because of this that I can demand nothing less.

Allow me to share a potential vision:

What if the Occupy Movement truly is the latest manifestation of the paradigm shift that is rippling around the planet, what Paul Hawken calls “the blessed unrest”? What if this shift is characterized by a new recognition of the self, one that no longer betrays ourselves as separate beings in an indifferent universe, but realizes we are conditional upon all the relationships we share?

I am because you are.

What if we experimented and perfected this alternative model of being, and deployed it along the vast global information network already encircling the globe? What if this model allowed us to grasp the array of crises plaguing our lives and the planet as actually interconnected – and to truly understand one was to understand and change them all?

What if we called this shift of inter-being by its true name?

Photo of the arch in Washington Square Park at Christmastime: Kevin Bedell.

New Yorkers make noise all year long, including and especially at Christmas.

Here are some musical events that invite audience participation in NYC.

Caroling in Washington Square Park

One way to join the holiday hullaballoo is neighborhood caroling, my favorite locale being the arch in Washington Square Park on Christmas Eve. Sheet music is handed around at 5 o’clock and from then on, it’s speed-caroling, first and last verses only. Brevity was much appreciated by me during last year’s cold snap.

Dec. 24, 6PM, Washington Square Park

Community Messiah sing at Judson Memorial Church

I don’t go to sing-along performances of Handel’s “Messiah,” that being outside of my vocal range. But if I did, I’d stay downtown for that as well, and join the community Messiah sing at Judson Memorial Church, hosted by the West Village Chorale. Your $15 admission buys you scores, piano accompaniment and light refreshments at intermission. Judson Memorial Church is on the south side of Washington Square Park at Thompson Street.

Dec. 11, 3PM, 239 Thompson St.

Unsilent Night at Washington Square Park

The arch in Washington Square Park is also the gathering place for Unsilent Night, a holiday procession of boom boxes that wends from the West Village to Tompkins Square Park, a mile away. New York isn’t the only Unsilent Night happening. Since its inception, it’s spread all over the world.

nyc unsilent night 2008 from J Son on Vimeo.

Unsilent Night is hard to describe. The music, an electronic composition by Phil Kline has become cult classic, soon to be performed in New York for the 20th year. The New York Times described it intriguingly: …amplified drones and chimes and bells echo off buildings, stop traffic, baffle passers-by and encourage taxi horns to chime in. The 44-minute electronic Christmas carol is a slippery, swirling blizzard of sound.

This year I’m not going to miss it.

December 17, 7PM, Washington Square Arch

Tuba Christmas at Rockefeller Center

Unsilent Night may not be conventional holiday fare but for a seriously wacky holiday musical event, you have to move uptown to Rockefeller Center for Tuba Christmas. On a Sunday afternoon in December, around 500 hundred tuba players from all over the East Coast schlep their instruments to the ice skating rink, where they play holiday favorites while standing beneath the statue of Prometheus, clad in gold leaf and little else.

It's a brassy Tuba Christmas. Photo: Ann Banks

It’s quite a sight — and a sound. As instructions to participants note, rehearsal time is limited. Players register at 11:30 and start an hour later. By the time of the 3:30 concert they are an ensemble, ready with rousing versions of “Deck the Halls” and other carols – singing along very much encouraged.

Since its inception in 1974, Tuba Christmas has become a holiday ritual in more than 250 cities and town around the world. But it started in New York and it’s hard to imagine a better backdrop for it anywhere than the famous Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and the golden gaze of Prometheus.

Dec. 11, 3:30PM, Rockefeller Plaza

Photo by Greg Walters

[Editor's note: Keph Senett is the first traveler-in-residence to participate in a new partnership between MatadorU and Adventure Center. Over the next year, Adventure Center will send a total of eight MatadorU students and alumni on epic trips. Travelers-in-residence will be writing for Matador, their personal blogs, and for other outlets. Follow Keph on her blog and on Twitter.]

WHEN I WAS TOLD that I’d been selected to go on a tour to Turkey as the first traveler-in-residence in the partnership between MatadorU and Adventure Center, my first thought was, “Awesome!” quickly followed by, “Uh-oh.”

Even with years of travel behind me, I’d somehow managed to experience an almost-uniformly independent roster of adventures. Being part of a tour would be a new one on me, and my excitement was tempered by ambivalence about group dynamics. Would I like the people on my tour? Would I be popular? Would my group eventually drive me to drink? Would the challenges of living with strangers for 15 days be worth it? The answers, in hindsight: Yes, yes, yes and definitely, yes.

Still, if I knew then what I know now, in between packing and researching and updating my papers, I’d have popped in a season or two of America’s first reality TV show and taken some notes from uber-host Jeff Probst, because everything I needed to know I could have learned from Survivor.

DO: Forge alliances early

A travel adventure tour is not a winner-takes-all game for a million dollars, but your success — an awesome experience — will depend on the conscious or unconscious support of your tour-mates, so form your friendships as quickly as you can.

The very first thing you’ll do as a group is meet for an orientation session. Your guide will be interested in explaining the rules. Don’t litter, do tip your driver, don’t indulge in street drugs. These are all handy tips, but if you’re playing the long game and thinking ahead to how much you’ll hate each other after two dozen meals at the same table, you’ll recognize that orientation is your first opportunity to secure jury votes. In the end, you’ll want as many of these people on your side as possible, so get cozy with your allies, and get even cozier with your enemies.

Think of it as a first date and play to your strengths. If you’re funny, be funny. If you’re a Boy Scout type, show your preparedness. And if you’re crotchety, unyielding, or ornery, choose to play under-the-radar and sit quietly for as long as you can.

DON’T: Be rigid

Even in a small group, you’ll have competing agendas. My Adventure Center tour included only 12 people plus our guide, but group decisions – like whether to eat at the lentil soup place or the intestine sandwich stand – came up daily. Be realistic about your expectations and don’t sweat the small stuff. You’ll get your chance to try that kebab, just maybe not today. Remember that on tour, like on Survivor, food is everything, and the better fed your tour-mates, the better off you are.

A word of warning from the flipside: Don’t be a doormat. Nobody draws resentment like the yes-man once you’re 12 days in.

DO: Be a provider

On season after season of Survivor, perfectly viable players have their torches snuffed because they’re perceived to be lazy or selfish. On an organized tour there’s not too much that’s going to come up that will require any real effort from you, and this makes the little gestures all the more important. Share your snacks, water, and aspirin. Lead the conversation during long haul drives. Take the hump seat over the wheel.

DON’T: Be a suck-up

Helpfulness and generosity are valued characteristics in a group, but nobody likes a hall monitor.

During my tour, I kept finding myself frantically rushing to meet up with the group. I couldn’t understand it; in my real life I’m known for my punctuality, so how was it that I’d turned so tardy? Imagine my simmering resentment to discover, after surreptitiously synchronizing my iPhone to the guide’s wristwatch, that I was not late at all but that the group was convening early. You don’t get points for being the first to dinner, people.

Relatedly, playing the flirt might get you the ocean-view room, but it will also almost surely damage your cred. You might not think you care, but be warned: as you’re throwing open the terrace doors and crowing about the sunset over the ocean, somewhere in the hotel revenge is being crafted. See how well you sleep now.

DO: Take down time

With extensive travel and a packed itinerary of must-dos, it’s easy to forget to step back and enjoy alone time. The fact is, even with boundless stamina and unimpeachable patience, you’d be unable to experience everything or tolerate the group without interruption. Trying to do so will only make you bloodthirsty.

I’ll admit it: The ocean-view incident got under my skin, so while the rest of the group got ready to meet for dinner (15 minutes early) I pocketed my iPhone, camera, and lira and went out for a meal by myself. And even though a street kitten stole my kebab while I was distracted by the call to prayer, my solo adventure left me recharged and ready to greet the next day – and my tour-mates – with a smile.

And finally,

DON’T: Freak out when you have to go to tribal council

Your undoing may be a comment overheard, an unpopular personal habit, or even a bad vibe, but eventually your character or behaviour will be scrutinized by the group. Resist the urge to deflect, accuse, or defend. Remember that fortunes change, and rest assured that if you’ve followed the tips above, you’ve already established relationships that will survive the tremors of group travel.

Pitcairn is a small volcanic outcrop situated in the South Pacific at latitude 25.04 south and longitude 130.06 west. It is roughly 2170km (1350 miles) east south-east of Tahiti and just over 6600km (4100 miles) from Panama. It's part of a 4-island group known as the Pitcairn Islands, whose administrative headquarters are situated in Auckland, New Zealand, 5310km (3300 miles) away.

Man, were they happy to see us.

A LOT OF PEOPLE have heard about Pitcairn — very few have actually been there. The island, a craggy black rock in the middle of the South Pacific, is one of the most difficult places to visit on Earth. Halfway between Peru and New Zealand, it’s only accessible by boat. The closest airport is on Mangareva, in the Gambier Islands, 330 miles away.

If you’re lucky, the weekly flight scheduled to the Gambier Islands from Papetee, Tahiti is running…but it’s probably not. From Mangareva you can catch a multi-day ferry to Pitcairn…sometimes. It’s too far away for any land-based helicopters to reach and too rugged for any airplanes to land on. Hell, if there’s a swell running or rough weather, you can’t even get there by boat. You won’t be able to anchor or come ashore, as there are no good harbors or bays; jagged lava rock, reefs, and tall cliffs surround the entire island.

Arriving at Bounty Bay on Pitcairn Island

For the mutinous crew of the HMS Bounty in 1790, Pitcairn was perfect. Satisfied they had reached the middle of nowhere, they burnt Her Majesty’s ship in what passed for the only bay, and along with a handful of Tahitians who were onboard they set about the business of living on the island and hiding from Her Majesty’s wrath, while hoping, quite literally, to drop off the map. They would have gotten away with it too. Unfortunately, they couldn’t all get along — apparently the mutineers were a drunk and violent bunch — and within a few years all but two of the men were dead.

The Pitcairn flag

An uprising by the Tahitians, the Britons’ retaliation, murder, disease, and falling off a cliff while drunk were the main causes of death. The last two men standing found God, and the islanders lived peacefully off the map until Pitcairn was rediscovered 24 years later. By that time only one of the original mutineers was still alive and the island was promptly turned into a British territory, the only one in the South Pacific.

Chances are Pitcairn Island sounds vaguely familiar to you. A couple of books have been written and films made about Captain Bligh, Fletcher Christian, and the “Mutiny on the Bounty.” And in 2004, a child sex abuse scandal on some faraway island where descendents of 18th-century mutinous sailors lived was picked up and raptly covered by the world’s media, from the New York Times and NPR to the London Times and Sydney Herald. Six men were found guilty in 2005 after “one of the most bizarre criminal trials in British history,” and a jail was erected on Pitcairn where the convicted are currently serving their prison sentences.

Speed camera, Pitcairn

This nefarious background, along with Hollywood’s unrealistic rendering of events, is all I really knew about Pitcairn as the sailboat I was aboard approached it. A private sailboat is really the only “practical” way to get to Pitcairn, due to its location as a midway stopping point between Rapa Nui (Easter Island) and Tahiti. None of us had ever been there before, and I had no idea what to expect from an island that obviously understood how to keep its secrets. I also knew that I wanted to get off the boat, badly. After two weeks at sea, any land will do. I didn’t care whether or not it’s full of the lecherous descendents of marauding mutineers.

But you can certainly imagine the slight unease the rest of the crew and I felt as we dropped anchor and a large boat roared toward us full of islanders. The locals had seemed friendly enough during radio communications, and after a few crass jokes along the lines of “hide the women!” a flat-decked longboat with a monstrous 400-horsepower diesel engine pulled up alongside. Only one of them looked like a pirate, with a black skull-and-crossbones do-rag covering his long greasy hair, a couple of gold teeth, some missing teeth, a large belly, and tattered shin-length pants, wearing Crocs. His name was Pirate Paul and a few of the crew would end up drinking tequila out of a whale’s tooth with him. The other islanders ranged from plump pale British and skinny Kiwis to heavy-set Polynesian and most shades in between.

Man, were they happy to see us. Clamoring to shake our hands and give us hugs, welcoming us to their island, and slapping us on the back, they were all so friendly — often to the point of awkwardness. They spoke with a strange mix of British accents and old sailor slang. Wut-a-way meant “hello,” “how are you,” and “nice to meet you.” After wobbling ashore on our sea legs and filling out the ornate customs forms (I have to admit, a Pitcairn passport stamp is pretty cool), we walked up “the hill of great difficulty” and were escorted directly to the treasurer’s office where we paid the $100/person visa fee required to visit Pitcairn and the island’s 50-some inhabitants, 48 of which are direct descendents of the original crew.

There was a small museum, which cost five bucks to enter. There’s also a post office, and they even have their own stamps. I sent two letters and was assured they would reach the U.S. by August. It was April. One of the little boys hovering around our group challenged one of the crew’s pretty girls to an arm wrestling match. She won, but he became our buddy and de-facto tour guide. We were all given maps and then set loose. There are two cars and one town on the island; you can pretty much walk everywhere, although most locals prefer to ride their 4×4 ATVs.

The preferred method of transportation among the island's citizens is the ATV.

It took about 30 minutes of exploring to realize that this island really is a pirate’s paradise. Single-track jungle trails lead to hidden caverns, large banyan trees are there for the climbing, and a steep hike up to Christian’s Cave offers a sweeping view of the cobalt blue Pacific. There’s an old Galapagos tortoise on the island as well named Mrs. T (originally it was Mr. T, but on closer inspection, the Mister was a Missus). She’s really old and nobody’s sure how long she’s been around or how she got there in the first place.

There are no real restaurants on the island, just private homes, and if they like you — and I think they like just about every visitor as long as they have money and promise to leave — they’ll invite you in and cook you a delicious lunch for the bargain price of 20 bucks. Believe me, after two weeks on a sailboat, that lunch, which includes a cold beer, fresh fruit, veggies, and meat, is the best 20 dollars I’ve ever spent.

The steep rocky trails and hidden caves of Pitcairn.

We went snorkeling in Bounty Bay and touched the remains of that famous ship. We swam with a couple of sea turtles and a bunch of fish as we circled One Palm Island, thus named because of its solitary palm tree. Go figure. Some of the crew got drunk with Pirate Paul and his whale’s tooth and a few others walked to the end of every road on the island, which took a couple of hours, and others spent their entire time on land foraging for things like taro root and fresh bananas, knowing it was at least another 10 days’ sail to Tahiti.

The author on top of Pitcairn with 10 more days at sea until landing in Tahiti.

At sunset on the second day, it was time to leave. Every single one of us had some funny story about an awkward encounter with a local, but they all wished us luck over the shortwave radio as they said goodbye to us and goodnight to each other. It turns out shortwave is the equivalent of the telephone on Pitcairn.

On the whole, the crew agreed that the Pitcairners were an incredibly friendly and hospitable bunch that had gotten somewhat of a bad wrap and were also a wee bit misunderstood…we also all agreed living there would get weird in a hurry.

Mao always hated commercials. Photo by Furibond..

In an effort “to unify thinking” and “boost culture,” China has ordered a ban on advertisements during broadcasts of TV dramas.

The announcement from China’s State Administration of Radio, Film and Television reads:

“Radio and television are important mouthpieces of the party and the people and are important battlefields in publicity and ideology. They bear important responsibilities in the public cultural service system, they must fully play up their advantages and earnestly perform their duties.”

To most, this news will come as business as usual from China, a country well-known for its authoritarian approach to media (not to mention media involving time travel). But let’s run with it: would running TV shows ad-free actually “boost culture” and “unify thinking”? Aside from the obvious notion that a purely unified thought process would be outlandishly boring, scary, and weird, what happens to the audience when you don’t break up a narrative?

Most of us are exposed to hundreds and hundreds of advertisements each day. It’s how media works. And while I’m delighted that I can watch Modern Family and It’s Always Sunny for free online, it comes at a cost to the continuity of my experience, throwing me out of my giggle-fit like a toe-tapping student breaks my focus during a physics exam. Or during the most tense moments of a TV drama–does that cliffhanger sustain the anticipatory buildup, or does it release it at a time when a viewer’s attention couldn’t be further away from a promotion for a car?

I’m inclined to agree with the Chinese on the fact that eliminating ads will unify thought, if only for a brief instant. When we go to the movies, are we going just for the bigger screen, larger sound, and immediate viewing of a newly-released film? There must be something more to it than pure size and immediate gratification; the movies are a common denominator, a level playing field where everyone, for a couple hours, is involved in the same pursuit of happiness through distraction and imagination. That seems to be the goal here–to sustain the presence, or even the appearance of unification, even if it’s only for an hour.

This isn’t to suggest that China’s approach to the communal viewing experience is without flaw–far from it. The mere fact that it’s exercising this much control over the media is unsettling, even if not uncharacteristic. But to say that China has evil motives in mind here would be narrow minded. Storytelling is predicated on the idea of tying an audience together and involve them in the same experience, and to remove the barriers to that unification–even if only to strengthen an already overpowerful state–seems like it can’t be without a few harmonious consequences. Even if they are during an episode of Big Bang Theory.

Watching competitive eater Furious Pete shove poutine in his face is like watching an anaconda swallow a pig.

IT IS DISGUSTING, but you can’t look away. Cheese curds float face down in gravy like flood victims and the french fries cry out for mercy below.

To this American, poutine is one bad idea after another. Fries are good enough as it is, maybe a little ketchup, mayo or ranch, but that is it. But as bizarre as it sounds, slopping heaps of brown goo on a helpless pile of fried potatoes is some sort of Canadian past time.

As if the soupy drunk-food isn’t bad enough left alone we have Furious Pete who is furiously filling his woefully distended cheeks with poutine as fast as he can. Melted cheese hangs from his chin, gravy dribbles down his constantly working maw and his fists are filled with disfigured french fries.

I can’t look away. Then it occurs to me that besides eating like a hyena on speed being Pete’s schtick, perhaps it is the only way one can actually down a whole take pout container of poutine.

On thing is for sure, I have lost my appetite.

Video created by Furious Pete

Feature image by LexnGer

Well, this just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

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IF YOU DON’T know what a flashmob is, just search YouTube. They’ve been a phenomenon since 2003, where large crowds of people will suddenly break out in choreographed moves in a public space, surprising bystanders who have no idea what’s going on.

This group of 200 in Mumbai performed a dance routine in one of India’s busiest train stations, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. According to Wikipedia, this was a tribute to those who lost their lives in the terror attacks on November 26, 2008 in Mumbai.

Photo by author.

Following on from Matador’s article about How to: NOT get robbed when traveling in a ‘dangerous’ country, Shane Townsend shares his tips on how to live abroad safely as an expat.

“NOW WHAT HAS POSSESSED YOU that’d make you want to run off to a place like Bolivia?” Aunt Loretta asked me. “They killed Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid down there, right? And, Che. They killed him too.”

Her mouth smiled, but her eyes didn’t. The edges turned down toward the gravel at our feet. I thought she was crying, but it was just sweat from another 100 degree day in Jayess, Mississippi. I smiled and looked back at the ground.

“Well, go on then,” she said leaning in for a hug, smiling now with her whole self. “Just get back home safe.”

For the next two years, I lived in Bolivia’s Andes Mountains and Amazon Basin, where I worked in micro-enterprise development with a Native Chiquitano community and in volunteer safety within my organization. I had some close calls, such as in the Black October protests, and during a Movimiento Sin Tierra town siege.

But I did my best not to disappoint my aunt, and years later, when I moved to the Philippines, I found the lessons I had learned as a volunteer still rang true.

Before moving abroad, get connected

According to the theory of six degrees of separation, each of us is only six introductions away from any other person in the world. If you can find those introductions, you can set yourself up for success overseas. It’s best to explore those connections well before your bags are packed. You want to have someone you trust introduce you to someone he or she trusts in the destination country. Having a reliable contact on the ground when you arrive will be invaluable.

Before I moved to the Philippines, the Philippine embassy’s cultural attaché gave me contact information for people to meet upon my arrival. Organizations with which I had relationships connected me to their Philippine branches. And LinkedIn helped me navigate the six degrees between me and would-be Manila contacts. Before my move, I had a list of contacts awaiting me. And I had a basic understanding of the norms of dress, behavior, and so on.

Look for connections through your university, faith-based community, or volunteer organization. If you have no such connections, make some. Check out Habitat for Humanity International, or National Red Cross organizations—which work worldwide, and depend on volunteers. Also look at organizations that serve expats abroad, such as the Federation of American Women’s Clubs and the US Chamber of Commerce.

Once you have your in-country introductions, use them! Meet your contacts as soon as you can, and bring a token gift of thanks from home.

The first rule of expat living: Integration, integration, integration

I believe community is the cornerstone of a safe and meaningful life abroad. As a community member, you have access to people, places, and news that’s only shared through informal networks. Strong community relationships give legitimacy. They offer protection, and resources.

By becoming part of the local community, you become part of the local fabric of life, and you have many people looking out for you. More than once, a neighbor in Bolivia knocked on my door to warn me of an imminent protest and encourage me to take the bus out of town.

The expat community offers another set of resources and connections. You may feel, perhaps, a deeper-rooted sense of belonging, and will have access to deeper pockets that can help get you out of a tight spot in a pinch. When I got off the bus in Bolivia, my expat community was there. Years and continents later they remain some of my dearest friends.

An introduction by an insider is the best way into a community. Do everything you can to get that before you arrive. Other ways to develop relationships include:

Sport: In Bolivia, playing soccer with the children led to chewing coca and fishing for piranhas with the adults. That led to working the fields with community leaders, which led to the work I was there to do. In Manila, my closest relationships with locals and expats alike were forged in a muay Thai dojo, as we beat the snot out of each other.

Music: If you can play an instrument or sing, you’ll have fast friends the world over.

Faith: Faith communities open quickly to others of their faith.

Sweat: Contribute to your community so you’re a citizen, not just a resident. Volunteer your time where you can, especially if there’s some sort of disaster in the community, or a group project.

Depending on your circumstances, you may find you need to assuage people’s fears and build their trust of you. A good way to do this is through food. Make a point of trying to eat local, the more alien to your palate the better. For example in Manila I slurped down feathery duck fetus – balut – at breakfast on my first days. My predecessor had never even tried it.

These strategies will help get you started, but sustained presence and participation will earn your entrance into a community. Find out how people spend time together and do it alongside them. Even if you don’t like badminton, for example, just go along and play–it might be fun. And, when the personal invitations start rolling in from people you trust, accept every one you can manage.

Match your behaviors to your surroundings

Living safely abroad is about knowing your environment, the local culture, and adapting your behaviors to blend in as best you can.

Again, start your preparations at home. Contact the embassy of your destination country. The cultural attaché will share insights into norms of dress, social interaction, business dealings, gender relations, and so on. Guide books and on-line resources will also help.

Ask for advice from your in-country contact, such as on what to wear and where to buy it. Watch people of different ages, genders, and status. With whom do you want to be identified? Note their clothing and mannerisms. How loudly do they speak? How do they dress? Do people wear jewelry? How does all this change in different settings?

Transportation is a big one. Which modes are safe and which are appropriate? If your community members are always on foot and you rent a car, you stand out, and so might be reminding them that you have more resources than they.

To a certain extent, you need to behave like a chameleon. In a crowd of folks clad in worn browns, the guy in a bright blue Marmot wearing iPod ear buds draws attention. At a party of rural farm workers, everyone is thinking about that one unaccompanied woman wearing a miniskirt and drinking whisky.

Expats often interact with people from a wide socioeconomic spectrum. The farmers you fish with in the evening may only own one shirt. The urban business folk you golf with in the afternoon may own homes on three continents. Find the common ground so they can too.

Mind your home: Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design

Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design (CPTED) offers a helpful framework for keeping your home safe. CPTED consists of what should be simple, commonsense precautions to make the built environment safer, and which we often take for granted in developed countries:

Natural Access Control, which defines private areas around your home and discourages entrance.

• Plant shrubs or build a fence around the home to define private areas and to direct visitors to the proper entrance.

Natural Surveillance, which draws attention to an intruder who has entered that defined private space.

• Neighbors become part of your security system. Help them watch your house.
• Light all external doorways.
• Trim lower branches of trees above head height.
• Trim hedges to below two feet, and make sure fences don’t block all visibility.
• Remove hedges and trees within six feet of your doorway so your neighbor can see your front door.

Maintenance, which is more than aesthetic.

• According to the broken windows theory, poor maintenance attracts would-be intruders.

Target Hardening, which strengthens buildings and makes them more difficult to breech.

• Ensure windows and doors are sturdy and have secure locks.
• Deadbolts in wooden frames should be fastened with at least one-and-a-half inch screws.

Learn more about CPTED.

Don’t get cocky or complacent

As an expat you are most at risk during two periods: when you arrive, because you know nothing; and after a year or so, when you’ve been there long enough to think you know everything. You don’t!

I knew an expat who lived without incident for two years. She spoke the local dialect beautifully, knew everyone in her community, and traveled the whole of the country. Yet the week before returning to the US she had her laptop stolen during an eight-hour bus journey. She’d let her guard down, and fallen asleep after putting the backpack containing her laptop in the overhead bin.

This could, of course, happen anywhere in the world. But my point is this: no matter how fully integrated into society you think you are, don’t let this apparent familiarity with a country lull you into a false sense of security. It’s just common sense, really.

Further (US-centric) resources

Alertnet (See Country Profiles and News)
Iceberg Cultural Consultants
Cultural Attaches at Foreign Embassies in the US
Cultural Crossing: A community built to understand cross-culture etiquette and understanding
Federation of American Women’s Clubs
Her Own Way – A woman’s safe travel guide
International SOS
Overseas Digest
Rotary Club International
Travel.State.Gov
US Chamber of Commerce
US Department of State Bureau of Diplomatic Security
USA.gov Americans Abroad

[Editor's note: Also check out Matador's collection of articles on expat life.]

WITH BUDGET CUTS AND TEACHER LAYOFFS dramatically reducing support systems for public school students nationwide, the situation for young learners looks bleak. A widespread critique of the liberal arts education system has been emerging in the press and among thought-leaders who believe that students are not learning important, practical skills that they need to become independent-minded and self-sufficient. Laura Seargant Richardson, of frog design, calls this the “creativity crisis,” and suggests that design be incorporated into basic curriculum. Too much emphasis on math and science can be a disservice to students as they enter the job world, she insists.

The concept of design-thinking has long been limited to elite firms who take a collaborative approach to problem-solving through phases of ideation, prototyping, and iteration. But in recent years, social entrepreneurs have begun incorporating design-thinking into their approaches to tackling social problems in the public sector.

Project: Interaction was started by two graduates of the School of Visual Arts’ Interaction Design MFA program. Inspired by a talk in which a designer urged them to teach interaction design to others in order to strengthen the profession, Carmen Dukes and Katie Koch wondered how they could bring design education to high school students. Over the course of one year, they interviewed educators, students, educational consultants, and entrepreneurs in order to get an idea of how their concept could become reality. They successfully pitched the curriculum to three schools, all of which accepted it, and chose one in which to prototype the project. Now they are teaching the design curriculum in an all-girls public school in Brooklyn, NY.

Koch and Dukes partnered with an after-school program, Project GROW, which focuses on offering meaningful activities for young girls. They are working with a small group of students to design the website for the program, providing a rare opportunity for young people to actually have an impact on their school environment, rather than simply receiving education or extracurricular activity as a service provided to them.

Students use clusters of sticky-notes to design a website

“It’s a two-hour-long class, and we are happy to have to so much time. It’s a small group, nine or ten students – the perfect-sized group to work on this kind of a project because everyone can have a job. The students had no web design skills; we are starting from scratch. They had basic web knowledge, but there is a lot of learning going on. They don’t always know why we make certain decisions for the site, like having log-in and registration. We’re hoping to have the site up by the end of January,” said Dukes and Koch.

We all remember times when school felt completely useless and abstract – for me, it was in chemistry class, for example, something I knew I would never use in my life or career. Project: Interaction is an exciting example of young people applying themselves to learn practical, real-life skills, and through that, becoming better problem-solvers and more confident in their abilities.

Outgames flags / All photos courtesy of author

Why so few of the soccer players at the Vancouver Outgames were women – and why it matters.

THE GOALKEEPER rocked on his heels, took two half-skips forward and drove 74 minutes of sweaty frustration into the sweet spot. The ball sailed high over the center line. On the pitch below, a cluster of players jockeyed, looking for the angle that might change the game.

I was at this past summer’s International Gay and Lesbian Football Association (IGLFA) North America Cup, a continental soccer tournament that was part of the Gay and Lesbian International Sport Association (GLISA) Outgames. Matches were being decided at Vancouver’s Thunderbird Park, an athletic complex near the University of British Columbia, and though it was only 11:00 a.m., the sidelines were littered with cast-off cleats and jerseys.

Players were hurting. The Cup is an amateur event — there are no tryouts to compete — yet there was an unsettling uniformity to the players. With a single exception, they were all male.

Just weeks before the Cup kick-off, organizers had cancelled the women’s division. Though the remaining competitions were technically open to players of all genders, the web site showed “Men’s Division I and II”.

“What’s the skinny on women’s participation this year?” I asked, as I joined a group of spectators at the goal-side fence.
IGLFA tournaments are open to lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans (LGBT) and allied adults (18 and older), with no specific qualification other than the desire to participate, and organizers work hard to make play possible.

Even those without a team can register individually; they’ll be seeded to a squad with a slim roster. Tournaments like this seek to empower through sport, and women’s participation is right there in the mission statement:

The International Gay and Lesbian Football Association (IGLFA) shall foster and augment the self respect of gay women and men throughout the world, and engender respect and understanding from the non-gay world, through the medium of football (soccer).

“Low registration numbers,” said one onlooker matter-of-factly.

“Women don’t like to travel for week-long events,” another added.

It was the same answer I’d been hearing all week, and though the generalization made me uncomfortable, I nodded. “The cost is significant, that’s for sure,” I conceded. “And there’s the kids issue.”

The economic realities of LGBT adults tend to mirror the broader population – and sometimes exaggerate it. In a 2010 report for the Canadian Parliamentary Information and Research Service, author Julie Cool used 2008 metrics including total earnings data to measure the gender wage gap.

Her findings: In 2008, women earned 64% of what men earned. Theoretically, a family with two female earners would net 78% of the income of a straight couple. The number drops to 64% when compared to families with two male earners. Taking into account the responsibilities of having kids – and according to 2006 Statistics Canada numbers, 4 times as many lesbians as gay men had children under the age of 24 living in the home – maybe it’s not such a mystery why women are underrepresented at the event.

I’D COME TO see this particular match because my hometown Toronto was competing. Out on the left flank, Shane was zigzagging like a German Shepherd, deftly herding his opponents into neutral zones. At my first IGLFA competition in Buenos Aires, Shane had taught me how to shoot the ball long by using the top of my foot.

“Hit it right on the laces,” he’d coached, his right foot swinging forward en pointe. Turning me into a striker was a losing proposition, but after a week of non-stop soccer games, our friendship had cemented.
In fact, in the four years since the tournament in Argentina, I’ve maintained friendships with most of the guys I’d played with – friendships that have resulted in travel, housing, and work opportunities. Team sports are uniquely suited to networking. Hell, played properly, soccer is networking.

“Get there!” hollered a benched player from Toronto’s opposing team, his forehead turning crimson like the stripe on his jersey.

“Quick question” I said, and scooted over to his side. “How many women do you have on your team?”

“One. She’s on the pitch.” I followed his gaze to a midfielder motoring down the field, gently tacking the ball between her boots. When I turned back he’d jumped to his feet and was pacing anxiously on the sideline.

“There’s one other girl here.” The voice came from behind me, over my shoulder. I stood to face a young guy with a faux-hawk who was busily snapping photos with his iPhone. “She played in the first game but I haven’t seen her since.”

Thirteen registered teams, at an average roster of 15 each, I thought, doing the math. That’s about 195 players, two of which are women which is…

“Hey,” I dragged the guy’s attention away from his phone. “Do you have a calculator on that thing?”

1.025. Just over one percent of the players at this Cup were women – a disappointingly low number, and one I suspected had to do with more than just imprecise language on the web site.

FOR THE WEEK of the games, Vancouver hosted seemingly endless cruises, parties, and sporting events, all of which culminated in the grandest celebration of all: Vancouver Pride. But in between the beer gardens and the DJ sets, where were the day cares, the kid’s play areas, and the family-friendly spaces? Where were the big-name lesbian entertainers? Where were the sponsorships for female players?

Out on the field, a stringy forward succumbed to momentum, sliding into a defender and knocking him off his feet. The referee blew his whistle as the men went to ground. The striker untangled himself and was the first on his feet, holding out a hand to help up his opponent.

“You OK?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Yep – nothing a drink won’t fix,” replied the defender. Then, “You’re buying.”

“What else is new,” the striker chuckled as he jogged back into position.

That’s the thing about amateur team sports: It’s not about sponsorships and medals and money. It’s about relationships, and men and women both are missing out when women don’t show up to play.

Henry Rollins and I go way back.

THE FIRST TIME I met him nearly 20 years ago, I was a young record company intern marketing The Rollins Band’s End Of Silence album and tour (featuring a promising new band called Tool). Frankly, he was a bit of a dick, not just to me but to many of the fans who came to meet him at a Tower Records autograph session.

A few years later, hanging out backstage before a concert with the Beastie Boys, I realized he was also one of the funniest and most engaging storytellers I’d ever met.

We’ve probably done a half-dozen interviews over the past 15 years, including one in which I got so sick of his condescending attitude — he essentially accused me, and all other music journalists, of not knowing enough about music history to have a qualified opinion about current music — that I confronted him in a screaming match, ultimately challenging him to a mano a mano showdown of musical knowledge (between you and me, I’d have wiped the floor with him).

So it’s been surprising in recent years to watch the former Black Flag frontman evolve from punk’s grizzled elder statesman into a humbled world traveler.

Intrigued by his National Geographic specials and the release of his new book of photos from his travels, “Occupants,” I decided to spend some time with this new, kinder, gentler Henry Rollins.

He remembered my name, but we didn’t discuss the disagreements we’d had in the past. In fact, this time we didn’t discuss music at all. Instead, we focused on the commonalities of our current careers, and our mutual passion for exploring the planet and its diverse array of cultures.

When did you first discover your love of travel?

My mom was an art nut, so she’d save her meager earnings from her government job and we’d go to museums all over the world. I’d been to Turkey, Greece, Spain, France, England and Jamaica before I was in the fourth grade. It gave me a taste for travel.

Garbage in Nepal sports a Minnie Mouse mask. This and all photos: Henry Rollins. Click for a larger view.

By age 20, I joined Black Flag and we became an internationally touring act. With the Rollins Band, I told those guys, “Let’s use this band as a vehicle to get places!” We played in Russia, Poland, Hungry, South America, Japan, Australia, New Zealand and Singapore. I set a rule for myself a decade ago that I’m going to go to Africa once a year, so I’ve been to Africa 10 or 11 times. I’ve been to every country in the Middle East besides Oman and Yemen.

Have there been any trips that have had a profound impact or changed you in some way?

Oh yeah, the first trip to India was a real corner-turning experience for me. You see… not just poverty, but people who register as intolerably and unacceptably poor. They don’t feel sorry for themselves, so you look odd to them because of the way you’re looking at them. Since then, I’ve never thought about food, water, life or death the same. It was a very transformative experience.

Your new book has a lot of photographs from your travels to Southeast Asia. What were some of the highlights for you?

Yeah, I was in North Korea, China, Tibet, Nepal, Bhutan and North Vietnam. I wanted to see what was left of the bombings that Nixon and Kissinger unleashed upon the Vietnamese people. I wanted to go to the Northern Vietnamese war museums in Hanoi, so I hired a guide to drive me around.

In Jakarta, a baby cries atop some trash.

He was an older guy who was in the Christmas bombings and he had amazing stories about taking his bicycle and having to walk over corpses in the street. He showed me a photo, and it looked like some futuristic apocalyptic scene — nothing but craters — from a B-52 strike. I asked if he could show me people afflicted with Agent Orange damage, so we went to a place called the Vietnamese Rainbow Village, which was started by an American Vietnam vet who saw what tetrachlorodibenzodioxin does to people.

He started this organization, funded by everything from Christian groups to European NGOs, to deal with ex-soldiers and their kids, who get this horrible mangling of their flesh from dioxin poisoning all these generations later. They allowed me to interview the director through a translator, and I interviewed a bunch of Vietnamese soldiers who were there for treatment, and they told me their stories. Half their kids are dead from Agent Orange. It was a very educational thing, and I’m hoping to get back there to do some documentary work.

Is it difficult to separate yourself from the sociopolitical issues? Are you ever able to relax and have a good time?

Just being in these places is good for me. One of the reasons I travel is this sociopolitical bent that I’m on: I want to see what globalization looks like on the other end. I want to see what global warming and climate change looks like all over the world.

Ronald McDonald is blessed by an ATM in Chang Mai.

I want to see what a war looks like after America has stopped talking about it, which is why I visited Southern Sudan. They had a war with the north for over two decades, so there are tank parts on the ground, bits of land mines everywhere and a huge mountain in the middle of a cornfield where they buried a bunch of Northern soldiers.

It was really intense to be walking over the bones and blood of this war that raged for 20 years. But try to find out anything about it in American newspapers…. there’s barely anything.

As somebody who grew following your music career, then your move into movies and talk shows, this seems like the next phase in your evolution. If I interview you again 10 years from now, where do you hope you’ll be?

I’d be very happy to be doing documentaries with my own production company as well as with National Geographic. I hold National Geographic in such high esteem. I think they’re amazing. I grew up near the building in DC, and I would love to be one of those older men in a pith helmet and a magnifying glass looking for some moth in a South American Rainforest for National Geographic. I think that would suit me very well.

So I’m hoping that 10 years from now I’ll be working on documentaries, writing travel books, taking photographs all over the world, and doing things to upgrade the way humans interact with each other, the way they’re cared for, and the way the environment is cared for.